Secret of the Daisies
by Sophie929
Summary: Dickon Sowerby is a gentle soul, but his strength is tested when the love of his life is put in a deep sleep, one which the doctors are afraid she may never wake from. Can he save her, or will she be another victim to the garden swing? (Extended version of my other story, Daisies)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

"After the Accident"

I know what's its like to be a ghost. This is not a metaphor but in all means used literally. I know what's it's like to be a_real_ghost, one who haunts the halls of her home (except one room I couldn't seem to get to. Mine), watches the friends who can't see or hear her, no matter how hard she's tried to get their attention, but _she_can see, feel, and hear_everything_of them. I'm still not sure why they couldn't at least hear or feel me, because for some reason, when you become a ghost, that part is never explained. I refused to believe I was dead. I knew I wasn't dead. Even as a ghost, I could still feel the light of life emanating through me. It was the only thing that kept me hoping, one day I would wake up.

I can't remember it at all, but I heard the maids talking about it, the day I tried desperately to get back to my body. They said I hurt myself pretty bad, and that I was sleeping. It comforted me to know I wasn't dying fast, but I knew if I didn't try to get to my body quick, I would surely die. That was the cold hard truth about it and death was easier to accept when that's all your loved ones talked about. Anyway, I'm getting off the point. This story isn't even about me. Granted, I'm in it, and I'm a very important character in the story (no narcissism implied) but it's _not _about me. It's about Dickon.

If you knew the Dickon I once knew, then you wouldn't be capable of recognizing the Dickon in this story. The author is especially cruel to him and makes him go through things, I would never wish upon anyone. For one, she killed my garden, leaving only behind one patch of daisies, just for Dickon to see. It was the only patch of daisies, neither Dickon, nor Colin, Uncle Archie, or I planted. It was planted by an intruder. An intruder Dickon didn't particularly like. I don't like talking about it, but I will for your sake. If you love Dickon as much as I do, it's best to keep in mind, he does make it out of the author's cruelty with his heart and mind still intact. I promise.

…

He just didn't understand...

...what had happened?

It was once filled with so much magic, so much beauty. The lilies and roses and pink bell flowers, they once stood proudly as if they knew they were beautiful. They stuck their petals, like one would with their noses, in the air, as if all the other flowers were beneath them. All the flowers were like that. Beautiful, healthy, and very loved, spoiled really. There were white flowers, red flowers, yellow flowers, green flowers, all bundled together like a rainbow.

He just doesn't understand.

Why? Why were they dying?

He hadn't been away that long, and though he hadn't cared for them as he had with…

They shouldn't look this! Petals were falling off their stem, or wilting as they barely hung on for dear life. Those that fell on the stone path, rotted and dried up. It looks as if, someone hasn't cared for them for months, a couple of years even!

Instead of the heavenly garden he knew before, closest thing to the garden of Eden, he had ever laid eyes on, was now a sick wood. The bare brown twigs, stuck out in different directions, pointing this way and that, like skeletons in a graveyard. It was a dark forrest which had been cursed by something cruel and very hateful.

Dickon dropped the bag of seeds, the daisies, as his heart quickened its pace and his breathing became hard and difficult.

He just didn't understand.

He fell to his knees, as the tears escaped his eyes and in one whisper he spoke, "Mary?"

Poor Dickon watered the poor plants, fertilized them, ripped away any weeds in haste and panic. Slowly, he felt himself lose control. It was at the brink of his madness, he saw them. It was in the patch of soil, he cleared just for the daisies he was going to plant. It was in the spot, where the tree swing once stood, which was the cause of all the insanity. There, in this _very_important spot, stood daisies. Daisies which were clearly bought from a store, and tied to one of the stems was a note.

_Praying for you every day, sweet Mary. _

_Sincerely,_

_Charles_

You could say something inside of Dickon cracked. Thankfully, nothing too damaging but sprout a moment of pure and unstoppable madness. Dickon has never _killed_flowers before, maybe weeds, but certainly no innocent flower, though when he read the note, what was left of Dickon's sweet nature and patience, was momentarily forgotten. He grabbed the roots of the daisies and ripped them out of their slot, leaving behind a hole, like a scar. He then proceeded to walk out of the garden with the daisies still in his hands and tossed them from the garden, like garbage.

Call it what you will, an act of jealousy, or a show of dominance. You wouldn't be wrong and it pained me to see this new side of him. He's not the only one the author tortures in this story. Understand that while all of this happened, as Dickon menacingly murdered a guiltless plant, Colin returns to his Raja ways, and my Uncle silently mourns what he believes to be my last moments, _I_am forced to watch, with no power to show them I'm okay.

It was unarguably the most painful moments of my life.

READER'S NOTE:

Thanks guys for reading this. I'm actually kind of serious of this story so I'm not going to be able to post new chapters every night. It will take me about a week to finish one chapter. Just warning you guys. So please comment, review, tell me what you think, whether you hated it, loved it, or didn't understand it. Just please…

REVIEW!


	2. Chapter 2

_London_

_September 7th, 1940_

Pop quiz. Who is the greatest serial killer of all time?

Have a go at it why don't you?

Go ahead. Take your time.

Really think about it.

Don't know the answer?

Well then, let me shed some light on this mystery.

The answer is… fiction writers.

Yes. You heard me right. Fiction authors get away with more death than mother nature herself, and this is because fiction writers never get caught. Ever. In fact they are praised highly for their line of work. In their stories, they toy with your emotions make you fall in love with characters, who you could most likely find wandering the streets, and right when you love them most, they kill them. They rip away your hope of this person's happily ever after, sending you down a spiral of uncontrollable emotions, all attacking each other like a chaotic apocalypse.

I dont know what her motives are, trying to rip Dickon and I apart but hear me now, I will NOT let her win. I will admit, I've been married to him for these past thirty years, and no matter what she put in front of us, we have always found a way to stay together. In fact, did you know, she has tried to kill me not once but three times!?

Yes! Once again you heard me correct. In her mission to make Dickon and my life miserable, she had tried to kill the both of us. First, was the time I became a ghost after accidentally hurting myself, the second was after my sweet Dickon was almost killed during war, and third…

Well the third is happening as we speak.

A second great war has been laying waste to what is left of London. I only agreed to come here with my two sons, because we were so sure we would be safe here. Yorkshire is nothing more than a pile of ash now and I'm afraid we may never be truly safe from the author's hate and the war that seems to be going on and on. No hope of it ever letting up.

I was reading in Colin's study. My dear cousin was so pleased upon our arrival. It was like we were children again, the smile on his face and the way he embraced me before I could even knock on the door. Fortunately he wasn't home when it happened, and I prayed with all my might, for his safe return. Where ever he was, I wished and prayed with all that I had, I would see him again.

I had just finished a third chapter in the novel, when I heard the sirens echoing through the windows, like a foreshadowing of impending doom, and it soon followed with a loud whistle noise which began like a high pitch woman's scream, the tone descending rather quickly, until finally it ended with a very loud, familiar and distinctive sound of impact and explosion and fire.

Not a second later I was visited by eldest son, James, and the look of fear in his eye was enough to put me on edge. "Mother, they're here and destroying everything," he urged, "we must leave to the shelter now!"

I have seen death more than any lady of my age should ever see, but the safety of my children are not one I have yet experienced. In fact it was this new feeling, I had aching inside of me, which gave me the strength to take him by the sleeve and pull him out of the room like a child. Normally I would respect that my children aren't in fact "children" anymore, they are both highly polite and respectable, modest young gentlemen. Well atleast my eldest one is. My second child, on the other hand, is always leaving evidence of suspicion, making his father go absolutely mad with frustration. "Where's your brother?" I ask him, my grip still tighter than a young clam trying to keep it's treasure safe inside. "Where has Will gone?"

"He left with Uncle Colin, last I heard," he answered in a quick panicked tone. We both spoke this way, as it was clear, we were the only ones left in the house and it didn't take us long to exit it. As soon as we made it to the garage, James finally ripped away from me, heading toward the car. He shoved in a key, trying to bring the engine to life but in response, it would cough and wheeze repeatedly, and it would not run. "Dammit!" James cursed kicking the petals.

Frustrated we left the car and that's when my boy had a brilliant but dangerous thought. "The basement down stairs!"

"But it didn't pass inspection," I said now fearing for my boy's life more than ever. "they said the boards are too weak and wouldn't protect us if there was a bomb."

James was going to speak but was silenced by the sound of a bomb, too close for comfort. The ground shook beneath us, I almost fell down if it weren't for James's quick reflexes. "No choice," he said pulling me with him before I had a chance to respond. We both enter the basement, closing the door behind us, little do we know, we have just sealed our fate.

…

Chapter One

"Before the accident"

In times of great danger and sadness, I like to close my eyes and go back to a time when it wasn't. A time when things were simple and happy. My childhood at Misselthwaite Manor. Oh, how I loved my days as a girl. I would hop and skip and run around with my boys without anyone questioning it or thinking of something scandalous about to happen.

Those were the times the sun rose higher and the colors shone brighter. I could be exactly who I wanted to be. Of course I knew one day it wouldn't be so. One day I wouldn't be able to run with my boys and play in the gardens. I wouldn't be able to be so contrary or have the freedom to say as I pleased. One day my lips would be sealed shut, my posture would be straight and stiff, my expression would be nothing if not pleasant and flawless.

I was very crossed with my uncle the moment I was informed of my leaving Yorkshire. I would scream and throw fits if it weren't for the cruel truth I loved my uncle more than my selfish desires. This was the first time I was shut up from my emotions and restrained of the words pounding away at my teeth, wanting so desperately to leave my lips. This was my first test as a lady and I passed with flying colors.

Colin on the other hand wasn't so restrained as me, as he always found ways to try and persuade my uncle to letting me stay, even Dickon would help Colin silently and inconspicuously. He wouldn't dare try to step over the boundaries of authority, from which were placed. Dickon was always a good boy, destined to be an even greater man.

Before I left I hugged my boys tighter than I ever had before, individually and both different from the other. First I said goodbye to Colin, holding him tightly as I felt his tears fall on my shirt. I knew I would miss him very much and even though I hadn't left yet, I had missed him already. Colin gave me a bracelet, on which Dickon had taught him how to make from twigs and other living things from our garden. I kissed it and promised him I would never forget how much it means to me. He gave me one last hug and stepped aside.

Dickon wouldn't even look at me. His eyes were a downcast as so was his entire head, while a hand ran through his curly brown hair. I didn't understand why he wouldn't look at me. I didn't understand the hurt he was feeling about me leaving. I was just a girl then. "Tha'll forget me," he said just as sad as he looked.

I assured him I could never forget him. I told him he was my first friend and one of the most important people in the world. There was no way I could ever forget him, but he still wouldn't look, and still being the girl I was, I ran into his chest and hugged him with all the love I could. He hugged me back just as tight, his head now resting on my shoulder. He whispered in my ear, "Please don' forget." It was at that moment I felt the tears escape my eyes and the tight feeling in my chest. I didn't know this feeling at the time, and I was afraid it would last the whole time I was away. I didn't know I was afraid Dickon would eventually forget me.

I was twelve when I left Misselthwaite Manor and I was eighteen when I returned. By the time I returned, I was a well educated (in secret), very respectable lady of high society. Secretly I had dipped into a small portion of my parent's funds, going to school not just for becoming a lady but another school which would teach me to become a nurse. I realized it wasn't only the beauty of the garden and the lovely meaning behind it which made me addicted to tending it. It needed me, and that's when I realized, quite opposite to my mother, I LOVE taking care of those who need me. Even if I never got hired, the thrilling idea I could still be of use to anyone in need of it, launched me to the clouds.

Dickon was the first to recognize me, and though it had been a little more than six years since I last saw him, I knew him the moment my gaze was locked with his.

My Dickon.

READER'S NOTE-

Okay sorry I've updated so late, but I was having a bit of writers block and my writing wasn't it's best so I had to rewrite over and over and over again. Okay I know this chapter is kind of like "what the heck!?" but it's really important I promise. I said this is going to be a LONG story and I really meant it. I'll try to update sooner. Anyway thank you sooo much! All of you who are supporting me. I REALLY hope I don't let you down. Anyway you guys know the drill. Love it, hate it, don't understand it, please…

**REVIEW! **


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